Harsh Justice

I have found that sometimes in life you have to bend over and take the big one right up the old humble maker. A harsh reality to grasp and believe me i fought it down to the wire but in the end the whole not being a kid anymore and the expectation to act as such comes into play and all hope is apparently lost. This was a very hard concept for me to accept.

For as long as I can remember I have had this on going persistence to stand for what is right. of course what that means is to stand for what in my opinion is right and to be as stubborn and passionate about it as humanly possible, so much so that it far surpasses what is socially and relationally acceptable. never the less no matter what the circumstance or outcome you stand your ground and fight the good fight.

Pride is a funny thing

Growing up where I live was far from your classic ghetto scenario though trouble has a way of finding you when this particular program is written into your mainframe, something about the short kid with the big mouth attracted a beat down from time to time but in the mind of my 14 year old self a black eye was a small price to pay when I knew I was right. some macho bullshit right, classic case of male ego. I couldn't agree more but when your young you only know what you have been told and so you can only live from that of which you have been taught.

Still I remember the sense of justice and satisfaction from upsizeing someones head after trying to steal your girl or your candy. Recent studies have shown that primal instincts will always take over when there is a woman or sugar involved, that shit is serious.

Evidently as you get older and a little more wiser your duelling gloves are often retired and the need to throw an opponent down the gauntlet is kept at bay by words of a diminutive and degrading nature, harsh staring contests, relentless gossiping and rumour spreading until the target develops an eating disorder. you might say that mentally 15 year boys eventually mature into 15 year old girls.

on the other hand old habits are hard to kick.

I love music and I have a tendency when driving from A to B to crank it which leads to an extravagant display of semi retarded body movement in the form of air drums and/or air guitar. In my time on this earth I have noticed that When the music is your guide you lose all sense of what is hot and what is not.

Upon having one of my patented musical exorcisms a glance to my right revealed an eshay and his girlfriend pointing, laughing and being merry.Those un familiar with the term eshay, eshlad or esh anything I will enlighten your world.

A severe group of wannabe hard nuts that have infected the regions of Sydney's west. Age starting from as low as 14 they are easily spotted by not only there lidless eyes from all the pills they swallow to get down and boogie but from the ridiculous dress code: a white cap tipped so far up it would make a Rabbi jealous, followed by a striped to the side polo shirt with short tennis shorts and a wide range of coloured runners, which is multi seasonal I might add even in the middle of winter there is no change in stylist, gotta hand it to them on the commitment if nothing else. at any random time after 10:00pm packs of 11 to 12 of them roam the streets mugging and bashing people just like they see the cool people that they follow around do. You know the type mid thirty's still roaming the streets and hitting up high school party's because their tough, broke as hell with no future, but tough.

un doubtably you may have noticed that to begin with i was not a big fan but in their defence i would've looked like a dick so I smiled pointed to the sky with my one good finger and continued on my musical journey. to my surprise this did not go down well and the next 10 mins consisted of a fun filled adventure of tail gating, high beam flashing and excessive swearing. From what I could see of his white cap barely reaching over the steering wheel the little punk appeared to be enjoying himself.

I was but a couple of streets from my house and it seemed that my little eshay friend was having to good a time to move on with his life. I decided to pull the car over before reaching my house for I didn't particularly want this kid coming back to by place of residence, didn't think it was such a great idea. Denying my expectations of him yelling some more and driving off he decided to do a very silly thing. he pulled in behind me and got out of his car and charged straight at mine very tough indeed

but in doing so he also revealed his height, age and lack there of, at an educated guess he looked no older than fifteen but bearing green P plates meant that he was at least 18. go figure

I decided to not let my automobile of preference burden the fury of Daycare Edition Eshlad and stepped from my car to see what the dealio was (for the jury it should be noted I was a little mad at Mr tennis shorts by now ) fists clenched and in his best big boy voice little man changed his course of direction and headed straight for me. It would be a blatant lie if I said I expected any less, though I was noticeably older and slightly bigger than he was I am far from the definition of built and was well aware that I am about as intimidating as a stoned puppy on valentines day.

I can think now of all the cool things one can say in this situation "don't make me angry you wouldn't like me when I'm angry " or even " do you feel lucky Esh" but no body really says or even thinks these things but in hind sight dam it would've been sweet.

As he got closer I realised the kids already played this out in his head and in front of a mirror a thousand times since he was five and that the inevitable was going to happen.

The temptation to over dramatise the story into a 70's batman episode of BAM!!!!ZIP!!!!!KAPOWIE!!! in which a 15 second stint of me doing the swim over an unconscious felon is always on the cards daaaaa...nanna nanna nanna nanna nanna nanna nanna nanna.

but no fraid not. He went down and my turn came to give him a righteous verbal serving of my own. but alas a "How do you like me now bitch" was nowhere to be found not even a "stay in school" nothing I froze. his eye's began to glaze and that high pitched squeak of a voice was silent. Case closed, a job well done only there was something missing. Where was the satisfaction? where was the justification of my previous self? gone like Britney Spear's innocence. it was a strange and new sensation for me and in all honesty I felt about the same gratification as if I had just punted a midget square in the crutch... which after much soul searching still remains surprisingly appealing.

I attempted a shrug of the shoulders apologised to the girl in his car and left completely dumbfounded by the change of emotions.A mass pondering session with a few friends of mine led only to give the conclusion that this must be how Spiderman and co feel. often a session of Spiderman or Superman left me quite frustrated due to the fact that Peter Parker could totally kick the crap out of that asshole giving him lip, your fricken Spiderman you don't need to play that crap identity or not that guys gotta go down. slightly over dramatic I know.

Fast forward to the present, an ongoing current situation has brought me much frustration and to make a long story short I am required to do something that goes against everything I'm used to. but I cant help but Imagine that if I follow tradition things will get much much worse.

To get a little serious on yo ass sometimes I feel that maybe as you get older shit that seemed to be such a big deal once doesn't seem to matter to you as much anymore. I was and will always be a proud cocky prick but sometimes maybe you gotta just suck it up for the sake of someone else.

I guess this means I have to get rid of my cape

The Drop Bear

recently i have been promoted to position of designated wing man after a good Friend of mine split with his missus. so to get him back on the horse we've upped the anti to our nights out and over the past 4 - 5 weeks our residential drinking area has been located in a bar on the boardwalk of darling harbour called Cargo Bar nice place and if your in the area i suggest you check it out. However since this change of scenery i have come to grips with the fact that the majority of bars and clubs management have been taken over by a radical movement of lesbian feminist Nazi's who personally see to it that only boobs may enter their places of business. its a new world out there and girl power is the theme.

to be honest it sucks, it sucks the big one that a guy cant go out for a beer with his boys. I call for equal opportunities..I call for equal rights...I have a dream that one day all people may enter a bar as equals.

it seems to me that Boobs have become the permission slips of bars and clubs if you come without your boobs the bus leaves without you and you have to sit outside with all the other boobless schmucks and the crazy kid who always seems to be eating glue. in rare occasions a note from your boobs may allow you admission but its a long shot to say the least

DEAR Nazi Lesbians

our apologies for Martinez's absence of boobs. We ask that you please excuse Martinez of his boobs and even though he is boobless ask that you allow him permission on the excursion to drunk town. we apologise for our absence however we are unable to accompany him due to prior engagements but rest assured we are their in spirit and most certainly in Martinez's mind. lots of love .

signed Martinez's Boobs

on arriving at Cargo Bar it took all of 3 seconds to realise that we were not getting in on account of showing up with one too many Y chromosomes which kinda pissed me off a little but what can you do its a woman's world and I suppose they were right how dare we show up with only our members in our hands don't you know that your in spice world now, its girl power motherfucker.

in any case we struck a truce with two girls who were passing by to accompany us pass the Nazi's defences and into the bar and we would buy them any drink they wanted and they could be on their merry way they agreed and we entered. we got to the bar thanked them again and asked them what they would like


um I'm not sure what I'm in the mood for you decide

how about a vodka cruiser or something

um nah

martini???

no

beer???

uh uh

yager bomb???

oh I'm so sick of them

oh good God woman!

as you may have guessed these two were not the brightest sparks in the circuit so consequently this went on for sometime until we eventually got around to the drink of all drinks the drop bear

i have been marketing the drop bear for roughly a year now in the hope of building its cred though i have always been hesitant of introducing it to the female species for it is not the regular vodka and kisses girly tea party drink. not to be sexist but its an acquired taste mainly to drunken idiots who have lost their sense of taste and will to live.

the drop bear is the product of a joke between a group of Friends that i met whilst on a contiki tour around Europe when i was 21. with most contiki groups there were roughly 50 people mostly Australian and American, over the course of the tour one of the Australian's decided to follow tradition and convince one of the Americans about the existence of drop bears and hoop snakes and what not.

now the chosen target was a stoner which is kinda cheating i know but he was the kinda stoner that wanted people to think he was smart and knowledgeable with his expanded mind and outstanding groovyness, the mere thought of a un heard of species had his mind expanding like a hot air balloon it was beautiful. In all honesty though it wasn't entirely his fault the guy delivering the web of lies was surprisingly convincing and kept a straight face about it for two straight weeks it was impressive but even more impressive than that was the attention to detail. The sound they make, size and origin this guy was a pro and i tip my hat to you Anthony

The drop bear according to Anthonys dictionary:

Member of the koala bear family nearly extinct due to extensive culling in the early 1800's. Black and brown in colour with sharp teeth and long claws, almost three times the size of a koala bear. the drop bear gets its name from its tendencies to drop from trees onto its prey emitting a screeching sound similar to that of the Nazgul in the movie lord of the rings rumours emerged that Peter Jackson witnessed the terrifying sound first hand last time he came to Australia and imitated it for his movie.

by the end of the tour the joke had gotten way out of hand and on the very last night that we were all together we decided to ease his suffering and fill him in on the situation. he did not take it to well so in memory of this poor bastards stupidity we created a drink in his honour. The drop bear

ingredients
Fosters beer
The only Australian beer that can be found in Europe is fosters the shit is every where and the funny thing is most Australians hate the stuff but that's not the point

Bundaberg rum
The bundaberg rum mascot is a polar bear and on top of that in a popular Australian commercial the polar bear pretends to be a drop bear to scare hot Swedish girls into hanging with the polar bears human mates...yes the polar bear has human mates why? i don't know..I just dont know.

Directions
fill a glass three quarters to the top with fosters beer
fill a shot glass of bundaberg rum
drop the shot glass into the glass of fosters and down the drink in one hit

4 drop bears please to which the bartender looked at me blankly. after explaining the drink to him he looked at me oddly for a second and then made it happen. We downed the drinks and the girls were not impressed, why would they be, they just slammed down a glass of Australia's shitest beer with a deviate polar bears rum inside.

don't you wish you had taken the Vodka cruiser now